


good intentions

by DarkVictory



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-War, canon-divergent, draco is in st mungo's, harry doesn't want to hear about it, my first non-humour HP story, vague allusions to war with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7771237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkVictory/pseuds/DarkVictory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-war.  Draco is in St Mungo's and Hermione thinks Harry should visit.  Seeeerious story and stuff.  Canon-divergent after book 5.  Oh, and it's songfic.  I know, I know.  But the lyrics of Our Lady Peace's "4 am" just fit Harry and Draco so perfectly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	good intentions

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on livejournal on August 17, 2003. YEAH. LIVEJOURNAL. 2003. Thought all of my Harry Potter fics were lost forever but recently tried logging into lj on a whim and it was all still there.

**********

_i never thought i would forget this hate  
then a phone call made me realize i'm wrong_

 

School was long since forgotten and Harry liked his quiet. Thoughts of the war obstructed all his thoughts of happy times at Hogwarts and he preferred not to dwell on the bad times. Otherwise known as the Draco times. Or as Harry liked to think of it, the petty times. He didn't care to remember any of it.

Until Hermione decided Harry was repressing and that repressing is bad. Or it could be chalked up to unfortunate coincidence.

"It's...well, did you hear about Malfoy?"

Harry heaved a sigh and considered just dropping the phone and walking away. Maybe go out for a cup of tea or something.

"Harry, did you hear?"

"Of course not, Hermione, I never hear anything."

"He's...well, perhaps you should take a trip to St. Mungo's."

"He's there?"

"Yes. But possibly not for much longer." Hermione's voice shook slightly.

Harry closed his eyes and forced down the anger at Hermione for telling him all of this.

"I'm sure I'm the last person he wants to see."

"Maybe not," Hermione said quietly. "It's just...well, I've been his only visitor. I couldn't even get Ron to go with me. Oh, Harry, it was just so sad to see him lying there all alone--"

Harry dropped the phone and went out for that cup of tea.

 

_i walked around my good intentions  
and found that there were none_

 

They were fighting. An actual shoving match, in seventh year. Draco seemed to be somewhat upset that Harry had killed his father three months previous. It had fueled both of their tempers.

They stumbled into an empty classroom, both refusing to let go of the other's robes. The sounds of Hermione and Ron scuffling with Crabbe and Goyle in the hallway grew faint as Harry dragged Draco across the room and shoved him up against a wall.

"Don't act like you don't deserve a good thrashing, Potter," Draco sneered, tightening his grip on Harry's robes.

Harry threw his weight against Draco to prevent any escape. "Don't act like you don't love this, Malfoy," Harry snarled. Then he blinked. He had meant to say 'Don't act like your father didn't deserve it.'

Draco blinked as well and suddenly looked lost. Harry was surprised when Draco didn't recover immediately and resume his sneer. He looked blankly at Harry and Harry realized he was looking blankly back.

Harry found that he couldn't look away from Draco and that in all the shoving their faces were only inches apart and he still had the entire length of his body pressed against Draco's.

Harry felt a great pressure, as if the room was closing in around him and he gripped Draco's robes more firmly. Or perhaps desperately. Draco's breath was coming in pants, just like Harry's own and Harry suddenly realized they were so close that they were sharing breath.

Something in Draco's eyes seemed to soften and Harry had an irrational thought before Goyle fell into the room with a crash, Ron leaping on top of him. Hermione stood by the door with a queer look on her face.

Harry realeased Draco as if he had been burned and Draco's scowl immediately returned.

They avoided each other after that. Not awkwardly or theatrically. They just didn't go out of their ways to cross paths and both were surprised that without intent, they never met.

 

 _and if i don't make it known that  
i've loved you all along_

 

Draco had a private room at St. Mungo's. Of course.

Despite Draco's inherent pallor, he was easily the most colourful thing in the room. Everything was blinding white and sterile except for the very frail boy--man--in the bed.

Draco's eyes were wide open and Harry found his stare quite unnerving. Hermione had said they still weren't sure what had happened to him, and that he hadn't spoken at all and more surprisingly, hadn't scowled or sneered at her, or even tried to non-verbally communicate the word 'Mudblood'.

Draco's eyes followed Harry as he crossed the room to stand at Draco's bedside.

"Hello," Harry said quietly. Draco didn't even blink. "Since you aren't leaping from your bed to strangle me, I'll assume you don't mind me being here." A slow grin spread across Harry's face. "Or maybe you're just not capable of it and my presence is actually annoying you greatly, in which case I'll be delighted to stick around."

A corner of Draco's mouth twitched. "What was that?" Harry asked. "A smile or a grimace? How about this: if you tell me to get the hell out of here right now, I will. But if not..." Harry smiled slyly, "...you're stuck with me."

Draco, of course, said nothing. But his fingers twitched in a way that seemed like they were reaching for Harry.

Harry stopped smiling and put his hand in Draco's. "I'll stay awhile."

**********


End file.
